


Silky

by disco_theque



Category: U2
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 06:20:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13698618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disco_theque/pseuds/disco_theque
Summary: The bed sheets are slippery, but Edge makes it work.Set late 2017, when Bono started wearing those massive scarves.





	Silky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spacemonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey/gifts).



> I've been toying with a ~bondage~ fic for some time now, and my dear spacemonkey did nothing but encourage this and like, when one of the queens tells you to write thing, YOU WRITE THING. So, here we are. It's not... much but I am pleased with it, and that's what really matters, right?
> 
> B's penchant for massive scarves is very important to me. 
> 
> Maybe someday I'll get out the other, longer, less-frantically-written works that have been left hanging in my Drive for weeks (months...)?? Until then, you get this romp :)

“Bono, we’re--” My leg slips off the bed, the movement forcing me deeper into him, and he howls. “Come on,” I grunt, as I slide my arm up under him in an attempt to move us, “We’re going to fall off the bed.” He does nothing to help, his hips still bucking against mine, but I have the mental image of us winding up in the hospital with matching broken hips, and it’s not something I want to experience, not yet. It takes some effort, but I manage to get us back to the center of the bed, and I reach up to hang onto the headboard, and I have to stifle a laugh, because he doesn’t miss a beat, his hair wild, eyes wild. 

“More,” he demands on a moan, wrapping his legs tighter around my waist. It forces me to sink lower against him, my arms giving out from their grip on the headboard, and the motion sends us sliding down again, and I mentally curse this hotel and their silk sheets. 

“You’re moving around too much, baby,” I tell him, and the smile he flashes at me is anything but apologetic. His pupils are blown wide and I know he’s too far gone to care. “Should tie you down…” I mutter, reaching up to grab for the headboard again. The stretch makes him feel incredible around me, so I slow down my hips and savor the feeling, but after a few moments I realize he’s not matching my thrusts anymore. 

“What is it?” I ask, and it comes out breathier than I anticipate but I can’t help but worry about him a little more now than I used to. There’s a curious look on his face, one I can’t quite place, so I slip out of him and move to his side.

“You should,” he muses. I can hear the thoughtfulness behind his voice, a tone usually reserved for his most poetic thoughts, and it’s not what I expect when I’ve just been, in his whiskey-soaked words murmured in my ear earlier this evening, ‘fucking his brains out.’

“What?”

He turns to face me, his eyes glowing. “I’ve never tried it before, Reg. Why not tonight? We’re not getting any younger,” he presses a finger to my lips to stop the protest I automatically have ready, and I can’t help but kiss it. “I have a couple scarves here…”

“What?” I ask again, ever the wordsmith - in my defense, the sheets are shifting against my cock as he moves to get off the bed, but as he rifles through our bags, I put it together and sit up in surprise. “You want me to…” 

The grin he shoots my way is downright giddy, and I have to wonder if this is something he’s wanted all along. 

“These should hold, right?” He has two scarves and, my eyebrows shoot up, my studded leather belt in his hands, and I’m sure this isn’t what Dolce & Gabbana had in mind. 

“You…” I want to say more, but the image of him bound and writhing on the bed floods my mind and I have to swallow and take a deep breath. “Yeah. Yes. They should hold.” He climbs back onto the bed and flops down on his back, his arms and legs spread wide, cock arching up toward the slight swell of his stomach, and he looks up at me expectantly. 

“Well?”

“Shouldn’t we…” I run one of the scarves between my fingers - more silk. “Talk about this first?”

“What’s there to talk about?” His voice is downright petulant, “You tie me up, then finish fucking me.”

“Baby,” I murmur and it’s the same tone I’ve used so many times over these decades, the one that’s reasoned him down from literal and figurative heights, brought him back to himself. Before I can continue, he levels me with a look.

“You brought this up.”

I open my mouth to… I can’t exactly protest that, and he knows it, the smile tugging at his lips knows it. After a pause, I try again. “Are you sure it won’t be too much? Bono, your…” I gesture vaguely to his arm and then his chest, and his smile twists and I immediately regret it. 

“Were you not just… what do the kids say? balls deep? in me, The Edge? What’s a little fabric going to do?” 

He has me there, and my body reacts to his words on its own accord, and he can see it in the way my stomach clenches. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much,” I instruct him, and he furrows his brow. “I mean it,” I add before he can argue. He nods and holds my gaze for a moment, then I move down the bed with the scarves in my hand. “Ehm…”

“What now?”

“Hang on.” My dismount from the bed is anything but graceful, it’s hard for me to walk with my cock and brain yelling at me for moving more than a few feet away from him, but this isn’t a four post bed (do they even still make four post beds? I can’t help wondering), so I have to get creative. He props his head up with his elbow to watch in amusement as I slide a chair toward one corner of the bed, then with a clatter, I set up the ironing board by the other. 

“Very resourceful, Reg.” 

He flexes his toes as I reach for his right leg, the energy coursing through him giving off a heat I can feel, and when I tighten the scarf around his ankle, he lets out a soft gasp. “I’ll stop if you want me to,” I say, gently, turning to make sure he’s still on board. He shakes his head and kicks his left foot against the bed impatiently, so I take my time and make a little show of tying the other end of the first scarf to the chair. I repeat the process with his left ankle and the ironing board, and when I move back onto the bed, he’s stroking his cock, and I can’t help but sit and watch for a moment. When he realizes my eyes are on him, he tightens his grip and lets a gratuitous moan, showing off for me, and I know he knows I love it. 

He arches his back after a few minutes, and I take the opportunity to slide a pillow under his hips, and it surprises him so his hands fall to his sides, and I surprise both of us when I straddle him, and grab his wrists tight in my hands. I lean in close to his face and his breath is hot and damp against my nose when he whines, but his eyes are sparkling and I know he’s fully in to this, all of it. I move his hands up and together so they’re clasped and stretched above his head, and the sound he makes when I run my fingertips from his wrists, down his arms, to his shoulders, is enough to make me want to forget this whole thing and take him tenderly so he lets out more of these delicate sighs. I trace my fingers lower, over his ribcage, and study the way he reacts, his body shifting under my gaze and touch.

“Don’t tell me you’re rethinking this,” he says, interrupting my thoughts, no doubt reading my thoughts like always. I look up again, to his eyes and wicked smile, then higher, to where his hands are still clasped together. “Come on, Reg.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this was something you wanted before?” I have to ask as I pick up my belt, turning it over in my hands as I consider how to do this so it won’t hurt, but will keep him bound. 

“You never asked,” is his simple answer, and he groans, low and long, when I shift higher over him, our cocks brushing, and I’d nearly forgotten how close I was before this all came up. I can’t help but grind against him, slow movements that bring me a hint of relief, before I remember the task at hand. His groan cuts off when I loop my belt through itself, his wrists snug against each other, but I slide a finger in with them to make sure it’s not too tight, before pulling the other end back through part of the headboard and fastening the buckle. It’s not perfect and he could slip free from the bindings pretty easily, but it’ll do. He cranes his neck up to see my work, gives a few experimental tugs against the belt, then looks back at me, one eyebrow quirked. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

I can only laugh and shake my head, as I work my hand through his hair. “Does it feel okay?” 

“Get back in me and I’ll feel better,” he replies, voice cheeky, leaning his head up into my touch. His right hand flexes and I can see the muscles working in his arm, and it’s clear he’s already aching to reach back out for me; he’s only been tied down for a minute and it’s already driving him crazy and I realize just how much fun I can have with this. When I move off of him, back to the bed, my knees barely brushing his side, he narrows his eyes and actually growls. 

“Hmm?” It comes out more squeaky than I want, but he doesn’t notice because I trail my fingertip down his chest, toward his cock. His hips buck up at the touch, so I pull my hand back and stifle a laugh at the breathy “Fuck…” he lets out as his hips settle back down against the pillow there. I just watch him for a moment then, his breathing deep, making his chest rise and fall, before circling my fingers around a nipple, and his response is immediately gratifying. 

“Driving me… mad...” He whispers, sucking in a sharp breath between his words when I pinch him, not very hard, but it’s enough. The mood turns dark and delicious and I push aside most of the worry I had about this whole thing. I pinch his nipple again, harder, and the way he writhes against his restraints makes ME moan in response. He raises his head off the bed a little to look at me at that, his eyes wide and dark and the eye contact we share sets something off in me. After he settles back down, I straddle him again, low, just over his right knee, so the whole of his torso is in front of me, and drag my fingernails down his chest, lightly, but enough that there are faint red lines in their wake. When I look up again, his eyes are tightly shut, mouth open in a silent ‘o,’ and I have to wonder why we haven’t been tying each other up this entire time. He’s beautiful like this.

I lean down and kiss him, just above his hip bone, and the way he hisses in a breath makes me do it again. He writhes a little, not able to move much, and I move up to the fleshy part where his hip becomes his waist, his perfect strong waist, and begin kissing and licking and biting at him, and he moans my name and all he can do is lay there and let me do this to him. I consider my options here - I could very well draw this out and kiss every inch of him right now, but I’m sure neither of us will be able to last that long (but I’m sure this won’t be the last time I tie him down). Instead, I shift to his other hip, ignoring the groan of desire he lets out when I pass just over his cock, hard and dripping precum onto his stomach. I mirror my devouring of him on this side, smoothing a hand down his leg when I feel it tensing under me. 

“Is it too much?” I ask, more to his stomach than anything.

“Feels so good…” 

“Baby.” I move off of him again, and watch him for a few minutes, maybe longer, I’m not sure anymore. His breathing returns to a more relaxed rhythm before too long, but when he opens his eyes and sees me studying him, a flush spreads over his chest and I actually get to watch his arousal grow, and I have to steady my own breathing when his hips jerk up at nothing but the air. 

It’s becoming increasingly urgent that I get back inside him, the sight of him laid out in front of me keying me up to such a level I can hardly think straight, so I reach for the lube that I’m impressed made it back to the nightstand. The “oh yeah…” that he lets out when he hears the tube snap open is downright pornographic, and I’m about to tell him that before I slide my index finger into him and we gasp together. He’s still pretty well stretched out from before all of this, but the pressure and heat always takes my breath away, no matter how many times we’ve done this.

“More,” he groans, not for the first time this evening, and my middle and ring fingers join my index easily. I brush his prostate almost immediately and the way his chest surges up in response makes me pause and just watch him, before I do it again and earn the same reaction. I hear the ironing board scoot across the floor a little, and I wonder if my bindings are going to give, but I slow my hand and he calms down a little. “It’s so much… more…” he pants, “You’d love this.”

“Another time, baby,” I have to grin when he tightens his shoulders; I can tell it’s an attempt to move to roll us over, before he remembers he’s tied down, and he lets out a frustrated little huff. I slip my fingers out of him, then stretch up to kiss him, sweetly, for that, and when our cocks meet again, he opens his lips against mine and our kiss turns sloppy and wet. It’s strange not to have his hands around my neck, he usually kisses me so posessively, but the thrill I get when I press him down against the bed like this makes up for it. When I have to pull back to catch my breath, he strains up toward me, before falling back against the bed again. “Settle down,” I whisper, right at the same time that he groans, “Fuck me,” and it’s all I can do to not slam right into him. I wrap my fingers around my cock and let out a relieved sigh just at that feeling, I’ve been so turned on for so long now since this all began tonight. The lube on my fingers is warm from him, and I just have to stroke myself for a moment while he shifts around as much as he can under me.

I move so my hips line up with his, and I hold myself up on my palms on either side of his head, and he stares deep into my eyes. It’s an easy push into him, and I miss the way his legs usually wrap around my waist, but like this, I have more freedom to move, so I shift so I’m almost out of him and press in again, and again, and again. He keeps surging and straining up toward me, and it’s too much, his body is wound so tightly I can’t handle any more and I come with a groan and collapse onto him. His cock is hard, pressed between our stomachs, so after I pull out of him, I grind my hips again, the feeling almost too intense for my oversensitive body now, but it’s clearly working for him. He moans my name, long and drawn out, so I do it a few more times, until I can feel the wet heat spreading between us. 

“Jesus.” He exhales, raggedly, and I realize I should let him breathe, so I roll off of him and to his side. “Can you…?” He asks, moving his leg a little to indicate what he means. 

“Yeah,” I tell him, willing my body to get up for a solid minute before I actually move. I’m exhausted, so I only untie the scarves from the chair and ironing board, effectively freeing him but leaving them around his ankles, before laying back down next to him. It’s not easy to get the belt undone while I’m laying on my stomach, reaching up for it, but I manage to eventually, and I prop myself up on my side and watch him carefully as he slowly brings his arms down to rest on his chest. “Are you alright?”

“I’m wonderful,” It comes out low and thick, and I can tell he’s close to sleep. “I’m tying you down tomorrow night, The--” he yawns, loudly, “Edge.”


End file.
